


Ghostbur's Wanderings

by Seek_Sam



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_Sam/pseuds/Seek_Sam
Summary: Ghostbur feels disconnected from the world. Fundy finds him and Ghostbur feels content for a short bit.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Kudos: 24
Collections: Chan's Kitchen Secret Santa 2020





	Ghostbur's Wanderings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theaceofspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaceofspace/gifts).



It had become a habit to sit here. Feeling the grains in the wood beneath him and the wind rushing through him. Just watching the happenings of new L’manburg. The people moving in, the friendly conversations, and the travelers passing through. Watching from this far up was nice. Everyone seemed small, the world insignificant. He could almost forget the constant cold, almost forget the fact that nobody saw him. That he was invisible. Or, basically invisible. He was dead. He didn’t remember much of that, although every day new memories floated up. Living in a ravine, going on adventures with friends. Leading a rebellion. However, these things were all insignificant to him now. It didn’t matter what he had done, he was dead. He didn’t know what mattered anymore. That’s why he came up here. To figure out what mattered. Down there was an overflow of people and memories. Some nice, some very much unwanted. Down there he couldn’t help but get involved with the daily workings of new L’manburg. Sitting along in court sessions. Spending the day in the President's office. He had learned a lot of what he knew now down there. But there was something he had learned early on that still haunted him. Apparently, he had blown up the land. He didn’t know why and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. If he dwelled on it too long, unspeakable memories surfaced. Of the things that had happened during those last days of the old land. The land that was now just a gaping hole. The others here had spoken a lot about it in the early days. In the days when the first structures of the new L’Manburg had been built. Over the pit of the old. It was actually quite beautiful, this new L’manberg. He could see it all when he sat up here, the wooden pillars, the pathways, and the houses. It had been built shortly after the event that destroyed the land in the first place. The explosions. He remembers them. Deep down, if he searches long enough, there is the memory of a button, of a song scribbled on stone walls, and the memory of the ground shaking. He knows he died shortly after that. The memory of seeing the people he had somehow betrayed through the hole in the wall made by the explosions. Their faces, showing their shock and hurt. Just before turning his head to a blurry figure and something pointed at him. Then darkness. That’s how he died. It had been some time now and he had finally come to terms with it. In the beginning it was hard, oh, so hard, to think about it. It used to bring him crying into a corner, wanting to press himself into the wall for comfort but instead shifting through it, finding himself on the other side of it. That used to be the worst part. Going through the walls, not being able to find comfort in the solidity of a rock wall or hugging his friends. It used to upset him oh so much. But now he had learned to use it to his advantage, to control it. It didn’t matter though. He had thought it mattered, he could go into secret rooms and spy on people but alas, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because he couldn’t tell anyone what he saw and heard. He was alone in this world, doomed to carry information useless to him but that might be important to other people. Why this hurt him he didn’t know. He didn’t remember anyone. He just had this unmistakable feeling of connectedness to them. To this place. That’s why he had stayed in the first place. That’s why he stayed in L’Manburg. He had tried to leave when he first woke up and realized he was dead. It had brought him such grief he had run as far as he could. He had run, and run, and run. He had run for days. Days without hunger, days with only cold and blurry memories. They kept him running until he had forgotten them. He had then stopped, only to find himself in front of a big crater. It pulled on him. The people he saw around the crater pulled on him. He was back. He had gone in a circle. The memories came back, and he ran again. He ran, and ran, and ran. When he found himself back at the crater for the fourth time he surrendered to it, to the memories, to the pain. The pull got him to find a cave near the bottom of the crater, to set up a small home. To live there. It was comfy. It was home. It was there he processed the memories. It was there he placed the trinkets he collected. But it was here, on the wooden planks of the roofs of L’Manburg, that he found peace. It was here he thought about what mattered. It was here he now loved, here he now fought and here he remained. Even as the sun set, even as the sun rose again. Bringing a new day to the new land. 

Fundy liked coming up here. But only sometimes. It was strange. Only on the days he missed his dad did he get the urge to come up here. Only the times his dead father felt farther away than ever before. Usually, he would feel content down on the ground. Even though the grief was still present he had gotten used to it. Thanks to a special feeling he was sure nobody else understood. It felt like his dad was close. It felt like he was walking alongside him. Like he was watching over him. It kept Fundy going. Helped him get through everything that had to be done. Until, of course, that feeling would vanish. And, for some reason, whenever it did, whenever Fundy felt like his dad wasn’t watching over him anymore, he would go up here. To the highest roof of new L’Manberg. Their country. He would sit on the slanted roof and watch the stars and feel at home again, feel like once again he was with his dad. Because, he reasoned, sometimes angels just had to go back up to heaven.

Sometimes, actually, most of the time when he went up here, after a little bit a strange boy would come up on the roof. There was something special about this boy. He could sit beside this boy for hours, in peace. Without the usual rush of confusing memories that sometimes attacked him with other people around. This boy only brought soft, nice, although blurry memories. That wasn’t weird though. Every memory was blurry nowadays. They always had been. But instead of the memories having sharp edges, like down below, the ones that came to him with the boy were round, fluffy, and warm. He liked it. Sometimes, even, anticipated the arrival of the boy. Being alone was still preferable but he didn’t mind the change. One of the few times he felt warm nowadays was with this boy and the memories he brought. That’s why he stayed as the boy arrived, the two of them silently watching the dawn of the new day.


End file.
